I Prefer the Mind Control Rewrite - Chapter 13
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The movie we watched didn’t even register in my borked brain because I was too busy trying not to think about how much I wanted Xan. You know how if you’re told not to think of a blue elephant, you’ll get a blue elephant stuck in your brain? Xan is my blue fucking elephant, only a lot sexier. Author, why did you have to make him so damn sexy? I may be fictional, but I have feelings.
Maybe an hour into the movie, emotional exhaustion took over, and I tried to put my head in Xan’s lap because I was that fucking tired. Luckily, I stopped myself halfway through this maneuver. Much less luckily, I unbalanced myself and fell to the floor in a brilliant heap.
Jirrin, sitting on the other side of Xan, asked, “What the hell are you doing, Dylan?”
“Demonstrating my exquisite grace and agility,” I grumbled from the floor.
Xan offered me a hand up, which I accepted. When I got back on the couch, he seemed reluctant to let my hand go. I tried to distract myself by thinking about how this was really a redundant living room where the major difference seemed to be that the couches had cupholders. It didn’t work.
He kept holding onto my hand. As much as I should have, I couldn’t tell Xan to let it go, even when I saw Jirrin scowl at us. Stupid sparks traveled up my arm from having Xan’s hand in mine. Dammit, why did that have to feel so good?
I told my brain to at least minimize body contact between us, since I knew that would only lead to badness. Telling myself “no body contact” meant I of course leaned against Xan’s shoulder not long after I got up from the floor. He was fucking comfortable and apparently didn’t mind that I was trying to cuddle in front his childhood friend who was in love with him. Just how much did Xan know about that?
My guess? He didn’t know fucking anything about how Jirrin liked him. Obliviousness would make sense. I hadn’t realized Preston wanted me until I overheard him breaking up with Bonnie, and it wasn’t like Jirrin and I were going to have a conversation Xan could conveniently overhear.
Thinking about Preston, however tangentially, fucking hurt. My chest tightened and breathing got more difficult. Xan seemed to sense this as he gave my hand a little squeeze. That helped, a bit, but,at the same time, it almost made things worse. I should have been holding Preston’s hand, dammit.
I didn’t want to hold Preston’s hand, though. As much guilt as it caused me, I did want to have Xan’s hand in mine. IIf I thought about it for too long, I got a sick, swooping feeling in my stomach. Why the fuck did I want Xan so much? It was so stupid. There were at least eleventy billion reasons it wouldn’t work, the biggest one being Xan was an ass, no matter how many waffles he cooked for me.
How many waffles would it take to make up for pretending to like a guy’s best friend more right in front of his face? Do you know, author? Can you tell me how many waffles that would be? You can’t? Screw you.
Even while I thought about how much of an ass Xan was, I never let go of his fucking hand or lifted my head from his shoulder. Of course I wouldn’t. That would be sensible, and did my brain do sensible? No, it did not.
“Movie’s over,” Jirrin muttered.
Wait, what?
Did I miss the whole fucking movie because I was too absorbed in Xan? “It’s over?” I asked.
Jirrin said, “Can’t you see the ending credits?”
Somehow, the presence of ending credits didn’t register in my brain at all. Oops.
“I think I might head home,” Jirrin muttered, looking over at me and Xan.
“Really?” Xan asked.
He said, “Doesn’t seem like there’s much for me to do here, unless you actually want to help me follow up on those rumors.”
“Rumors?” I had no idea what they were talking about.
Xan muttered, “Those rumors are highly unlikely. It would be a major violation of custom.”
And a major violation of comprehension as I had precisely fuck all idea what they were even talking about.
Jirrin narrowed his eyes at him. “If there’s even a grain of plausibility, I think you should head back to Zimara,, Xan.”
“You know I have no interest, even if they are true,” he retorted.
Care to explain, author? No? I don’t know why I bother asking you for anything; it’s the thirteenth chapter and you haven’t been helpful yet.
I grumbled, “Would someone fucking explain, please?”
Xan sighed. He let go of me and put his head in his hands.
“It’s something he would rather not think about,” Jirrin said.
“Yeah, that much is obvious,” I muttered.
Okay, now I had to know what this Big Mysterious Top Secret Thing of Doom was. Would Jirrin even tell me since I was his kinda sorta rival for Xan’s affections? Or would it lord it over me that I didn’t know their secrets, being a mere human and all?
Jirrin looked at me. “You really want to know don’t you?”
I said, “Humans are naturally curious creatures. Of course I wanna know.”
He fucking smirked. “I’m not sure it’s your business.”
“Whether it’s my business or not has nothing to do with wanting to know.”
Xan finally lifted his head from his hands. He sighed, “There’s -- there’s rumors circulating that the throne competition will begin soon.”
“The what?” I asked.
Xan said, “Zimara -- does things a bit differently than Earth in terms of how we choose our next King or Queen. It’s not based on who’s born first. Rather, the Heir is decided by a competition of sorts. It’s more -- an observation, really. All the royal children, when the youngest comes of age at ten Zimaran years, are observed for a period of between six months and a year while they go about their business in the Palace. The Heir is chosen by the Choosing Committee based on that period, but everyone knows a Candidate’s history is taken into account.”
That was certainly unusual, but it kind of made sense. Sometimes a shitty kid was born first, and it would really suck if they had to be the leader in a hereditary government. I said, “So this is starting soon?”
“It shouldn’t be,” Xan muttered. “My younger sister Ayli isn’t even of age yet; she just turned nine years old by our calendar, making her eighteen by yours, since our years are twice as long. But the rumors say the competition might start soon anyway, which means I ought to go home before it starts, as much as I have no interest in winning the throne.”
Xan might be leaving soon? I tried to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach at that. What fucking right had I to be disappointed when I hardly knew Xan and didn’t much like what I did know? And all that neglected how he was a fucking Prince and had more important shit to deal with than random Earthlings like me.
Wait, did he say he had no interest in becoming the Heir? The tiniest bit of hope expanded in my chest at the idea Xan might just say “fuck it” and stay on Earth, competition or no competition. What the fuck? I tried to remind myself how much I didn’t like Xan as a person, but it wasn’t helping. Maybe telling myself the likelihood we had anything in common was in the negative numbers would help? I tried that, and it didn’t help, either.
“I don’t want you to go, Xan,” I said.
He turned to me, eyes widening slightly. “You don’t?”
I already said I didn’t fucking do sensible. If I did, I would have told Xan “I’m fine with you going. You should leave now, actually.”
Instead, what I actually said was, “No, I don’t want you to go. I don’t dislike you as much as I wish I did.”
Jirrin quipped, “That ought to make Xan feel special.”
Xan raised an eyebrow, presumably at Jirrin’s odd behavior. It didn’t strike me as so odd because it was classic “subtly put down your romantic rival to make yourself look better” bullshit. Jirrin wanted to point out how stupid I was to make himself more fuckable in comparison. Too bad for him that I didn’t think it would make Xan want to bone him.
Okay, Xan surely already slept with Jirrin sometimes, but Jirrin’s little fragments of snark wouldn’t qualify him to be Xan’s Number One Boning Partner.
“It does make me feel special, actually,” Xan murmured.
I looked at the floor, hoping to hide the blush I could fucking feel spread across my face. Damn my pale skin.
Jirrin muttered, “You feel special when someone says he wished he disliked you? I don’t understand. Wouldn’t you feel more special if someone simply said they liked you?”
Like you obviously wished you could, Jirrin?
Xan appeared thoughtful and smiled slightly. “It’s more flattering, in a way, for me to have such power over someone like Dylan that I can make him like me even if he doesn’t want to.” Stupid Xan then looked at me so fucking intensely I had to look back, even if I wanted to continue staring at the floor. The floor was fucking safe and not sexually attractive at all.
“You’re not trying to mind control me, are you?” I asked. I didn’t feel any mind control, but that look was still fucking intense.
He murmured, “Do you want me to?”
Partially because I didn’t want Jirrin to murder me in my sleep or something, I said, “I don’t think that’s so, like, appropriate right now.”
“It isn’t,” Jirrin grumbled.
Disappointment flickered in Xan’s eyes. “I suppose it wouldn’t be, because of recent events.”
That and I really didn’t want Jirrin to fucking murder me. Also, it would be more than a bit rude to start sexy mind control in front of the guy I knew wanted to be Xan’s Super Special Official Boyfriend.
I said, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want it...” Not that I needed mind control to feel absurd lust for Xan. But it did help. But I wished I could get rid of the absurd lust, not fucking enhance it.
Xan sighed, “But it’s not appropriate, is it?”
Jirrin muttered, “You two obviously want it, so I’m just going to leave. It’s not like sense is going to stop you..”
Life would be so much fucking easier if I could just perform a lust-ectomy on myself because then I wouldn’t be inviting Jirrin’s catty wrath.
“You don’t have to go, Jirrin,” Xan said.
Jirrin stood up. “I have no desire to watch you two fuck.”
Xan’s eyes widened. “We’re not going to.”
“Don’t pretend,” Jirrin muttered.
I looked into Jirrin’s hardened violet eyes. “We’re not, I swear.” The burning in my cheeks could not have been helping my case, but we weren’t going to fuck. You don’t believe me, do you, author?
Jirrin stormed off, leaving Xan and me in the dim home theater. I got up because if I didn’t, I would jump Xan, like, right now. “I should go, like, pretend to do homework. Can I -- can I borrow your computer now?”
Xan smirked at me. “If you’re just going to pretend to do homework, why bother?”
Dammit, he needed to stop looking at me like that. It was too fucking much. My face burning, I sped out of the room.
Somehow, I found myself walking up the stairs towards Xan’s room. What the fuck? That was pretty much the opposite of where I should have been going.
Once I realized where I was, I stopped about halfway up the staircase and turned around. Only to find myself face to face with Xan.
He raised an eyebrow. “And why were you heading towards my room?”
“Because my feet are stupid?” I offered weakly.
Xan grabbed my wrist, and I felt a shiver run up my spine. He murmured, “I think I know what you were hoping for.”
I hissed, “Dammit, I’m trying to convince myself we’re not going to fuck, and you’re not helping.”
“Is this because of Preston? And your...other troubles?” he asked, concern filling his voice. Still, he didn’t let me go, and I -- I didn’t fucking want him to.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s not exactly healthy or normal to be having sex when my brain is all scrambled.” Never mind that was kind of exactly what I did with Preston.
“Sometimes it can be a good thing,” Xan murmured. “The mind control and subsequent activities can -- can help settle your thoughts, let you relax a bit. You’ve been so tense, Dylan, and I hate to see you hurting. It’s -- well, it’s not an uncommon practice on Zimara.”
I should have pointed out how we weren’t on Zimara. Instead I asked, “Really?”
Xan nodded. “Really.”
Against all logic, I said, “Put the mind control on me, then.”
He smiled and looked into my eyes with that particular gaze. I felt the control slip into my brain and my already-intense lust for Xan increased so much that I fell forward. Xan caught me, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed me; I eagerly kissed him back.
While I knew this was wrong by Earth standards, I wanted it too fucking much.
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written for 500themes prompt #331 - "Tragic Sin"
next chapter
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The movie we watched didn’t even register in my borked brain because I was too busy trying not to think about how much I wanted Xan. You know how if you’re told not to think of a blue elephant, you’ll get a blue elephant stuck in your brain? Xan is my blue fucking elephant, only a lot sexier. Author, why did you have to make him so damn sexy? I may be fictional, but I have feelings.
Maybe an hour into the movie, emotional exhaustion took over, and I tried to put my head in Xan’s lap because I was that fucking tired. Luckily, I stopped myself halfway through this maneuver. Much less luckily, I unbalanced myself and fell to the floor in a brilliant heap.
Jirrin, sitting on the other side of Xan, asked, “What the hell are you doing, Dylan?”
“Demonstrating my exquisite grace and agility,” I grumbled from the floor.
Xan offered me a hand up, which I accepted. When I got back on the couch, he seemed reluctant to let my hand go. I tried to distract myself by thinking about how this was really a redundant living room where the major difference seemed to be that the couches had cupholders. It didn’t work.
He kept holding onto my hand. As much as I should have, I couldn’t tell Xan to let it go, even when I saw Jirrin scowl at us. Stupid sparks traveled up my arm from having Xan’s hand in mine. Dammit, why did that have to feel so good?
I told my brain to at least minimize body contact between us, since I knew that would only lead to badness. Telling myself “no body contact” meant I of course leaned against Xan’s shoulder not long after I got up from the floor. He was fucking comfortable and apparently didn’t mind that I was trying to cuddle in front his childhood friend who was in love with him. Just how much did Xan know about that?
My guess? He didn’t know fucking anything about how Jirrin liked him. Obliviousness would make sense. I hadn’t realized Preston wanted me until I overheard him breaking up with Bonnie, and it wasn’t like Jirrin and I were going to have a conversation Xan could conveniently overhear.
Thinking about Preston, however tangentially, fucking hurt. My chest tightened and breathing got more difficult. Xan seemed to sense this as he gave my hand a little squeeze. That helped, a bit, but,at the same time, it almost made things worse. I should have been holding Preston’s hand, dammit.
I didn’t want to hold Preston’s hand, though. As much guilt as it caused me, I did want to have Xan’s hand in mine. IIf I thought about it for too long, I got a sick, swooping feeling in my stomach. Why the fuck did I want Xan so much? It was so stupid. There were at least eleventy billion reasons it wouldn’t work, the biggest one being Xan was an ass, no matter how many waffles he cooked for me.
How many waffles would it take to make up for pretending to like a guy’s best friend more right in front of his face? Do you know, author? Can you tell me how many waffles that would be? You can’t? Screw you.
Even while I thought about how much of an ass Xan was, I never let go of his fucking hand or lifted my head from his shoulder. Of course I wouldn’t. That would be sensible, and did my brain do sensible? No, it did not.
“Movie’s over,” Jirrin muttered.
Wait, what?
Did I miss the whole fucking movie because I was too absorbed in Xan? “It’s over?” I asked.
Jirrin said, “Can’t you see the ending credits?”
Somehow, the presence of ending credits didn’t register in my brain at all. Oops.
“I think I might head home,” Jirrin muttered, looking over at me and Xan.
“Really?” Xan asked.
He said, “Doesn’t seem like there’s much for me to do here, unless you actually want to help me follow up on those rumors.”
“Rumors?” I had no idea what they were talking about.
Xan muttered, “Those rumors are highly unlikely. It would be a major violation of custom.”
And a major violation of comprehension as I had precisely fuck all idea what they were even talking about.
Jirrin narrowed his eyes at him. “If there’s even a grain of plausibility, I think you should head back to Zimara,, Xan.”
“You know I have no interest, even if they are true,” he retorted.
Care to explain, author? No? I don’t know why I bother asking you for anything; it’s the thirteenth chapter and you haven’t been helpful yet.
I grumbled, “Would someone fucking explain, please?”
Xan sighed. He let go of me and put his head in his hands.
“It’s something he would rather not think about,” Jirrin said.
“Yeah, that much is obvious,” I muttered.
Okay, now I had to know what this Big Mysterious Top Secret Thing of Doom was. Would Jirrin even tell me since I was his kinda sorta rival for Xan’s affections? Or would it lord it over me that I didn’t know their secrets, being a mere human and all?
Jirrin looked at me. “You really want to know don’t you?”
I said, “Humans are naturally curious creatures. Of course I wanna know.”
He fucking smirked. “I’m not sure it’s your business.”
“Whether it’s my business or not has nothing to do with wanting to know.”
Xan finally lifted his head from his hands. He sighed, “There’s -- there’s rumors circulating that the throne competition will begin soon.”
“The what?” I asked.
Xan said, “Zimara -- does things a bit differently than Earth in terms of how we choose our next King or Queen. It’s not based on who’s born first. Rather, the Heir is decided by a competition of sorts. It’s more -- an observation, really. All the royal children, when the youngest comes of age at ten Zimaran years, are observed for a period of between six months and a year while they go about their business in the Palace. The Heir is chosen by the Choosing Committee based on that period, but everyone knows a Candidate’s history is taken into account.”
That was certainly unusual, but it kind of made sense. Sometimes a shitty kid was born first, and it would really suck if they had to be the leader in a hereditary government. I said, “So this is starting soon?”
“It shouldn’t be,” Xan muttered. “My younger sister Ayli isn’t even of age yet; she just turned nine years old by our calendar, making her eighteen by yours, since our years are twice as long. But the rumors say the competition might start soon anyway, which means I ought to go home before it starts, as much as I have no interest in winning the throne.”
Xan might be leaving soon? I tried to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach at that. What fucking right had I to be disappointed when I hardly knew Xan and didn’t much like what I did know? And all that neglected how he was a fucking Prince and had more important shit to deal with than random Earthlings like me.
Wait, did he say he had no interest in becoming the Heir? The tiniest bit of hope expanded in my chest at the idea Xan might just say “fuck it” and stay on Earth, competition or no competition. What the fuck? I tried to remind myself how much I didn’t like Xan as a person, but it wasn’t helping. Maybe telling myself the likelihood we had anything in common was in the negative numbers would help? I tried that, and it didn’t help, either.
“I don’t want you to go, Xan,” I said.
He turned to me, eyes widening slightly. “You don’t?”
I already said I didn’t fucking do sensible. If I did, I would have told Xan “I’m fine with you going. You should leave now, actually.”
Instead, what I actually said was, “No, I don’t want you to go. I don’t dislike you as much as I wish I did.”
Jirrin quipped, “That ought to make Xan feel special.”
Xan raised an eyebrow, presumably at Jirrin’s odd behavior. It didn’t strike me as so odd because it was classic “subtly put down your romantic rival to make yourself look better” bullshit. Jirrin wanted to point out how stupid I was to make himself more fuckable in comparison. Too bad for him that I didn’t think it would make Xan want to bone him.
Okay, Xan surely already slept with Jirrin sometimes, but Jirrin’s little fragments of snark wouldn’t qualify him to be Xan’s Number One Boning Partner.
“It does make me feel special, actually,” Xan murmured.
I looked at the floor, hoping to hide the blush I could fucking feel spread across my face. Damn my pale skin.
Jirrin muttered, “You feel special when someone says he wished he disliked you? I don’t understand. Wouldn’t you feel more special if someone simply said they liked you?”
Like you obviously wished you could, Jirrin?
Xan appeared thoughtful and smiled slightly. “It’s more flattering, in a way, for me to have such power over someone like Dylan that I can make him like me even if he doesn’t want to.” Stupid Xan then looked at me so fucking intensely I had to look back, even if I wanted to continue staring at the floor. The floor was fucking safe and not sexually attractive at all.
“You’re not trying to mind control me, are you?” I asked. I didn’t feel any mind control, but that look was still fucking intense.
He murmured, “Do you want me to?”
Partially because I didn’t want Jirrin to murder me in my sleep or something, I said, “I don’t think that’s so, like, appropriate right now.”
“It isn’t,” Jirrin grumbled.
Disappointment flickered in Xan’s eyes. “I suppose it wouldn’t be, because of recent events.”
That and I really didn’t want Jirrin to fucking murder me. Also, it would be more than a bit rude to start sexy mind control in front of the guy I knew wanted to be Xan’s Super Special Official Boyfriend.
I said, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want it...” Not that I needed mind control to feel absurd lust for Xan. But it did help. But I wished I could get rid of the absurd lust, not fucking enhance it.
Xan sighed, “But it’s not appropriate, is it?”
Jirrin muttered, “You two obviously want it, so I’m just going to leave. It’s not like sense is going to stop you..”
Life would be so much fucking easier if I could just perform a lust-ectomy on myself because then I wouldn’t be inviting Jirrin’s catty wrath.
“You don’t have to go, Jirrin,” Xan said.
Jirrin stood up. “I have no desire to watch you two fuck.”
Xan’s eyes widened. “We’re not going to.”
“Don’t pretend,” Jirrin muttered.
I looked into Jirrin’s hardened violet eyes. “We’re not, I swear.” The burning in my cheeks could not have been helping my case, but we weren’t going to fuck. You don’t believe me, do you, author?
Jirrin stormed off, leaving Xan and me in the dim home theater. I got up because if I didn’t, I would jump Xan, like, right now. “I should go, like, pretend to do homework. Can I -- can I borrow your computer now?”
Xan smirked at me. “If you’re just going to pretend to do homework, why bother?”
Dammit, he needed to stop looking at me like that. It was too fucking much. My face burning, I sped out of the room.
Somehow, I found myself walking up the stairs towards Xan’s room. What the fuck? That was pretty much the opposite of where I should have been going.
Once I realized where I was, I stopped about halfway up the staircase and turned around. Only to find myself face to face with Xan.
He raised an eyebrow. “And why were you heading towards my room?”
“Because my feet are stupid?” I offered weakly.
Xan grabbed my wrist, and I felt a shiver run up my spine. He murmured, “I think I know what you were hoping for.”
I hissed, “Dammit, I’m trying to convince myself we’re not going to fuck, and you’re not helping.”
“Is this because of Preston? And your...other troubles?” he asked, concern filling his voice. Still, he didn’t let me go, and I -- I didn’t fucking want him to.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s not exactly healthy or normal to be having sex when my brain is all scrambled.” Never mind that was kind of exactly what I did with Preston.
“Sometimes it can be a good thing,” Xan murmured. “The mind control and subsequent activities can -- can help settle your thoughts, let you relax a bit. You’ve been so tense, Dylan, and I hate to see you hurting. It’s -- well, it’s not an uncommon practice on Zimara.”
I should have pointed out how we weren’t on Zimara. Instead I asked, “Really?”
Xan nodded. “Really.”
Against all logic, I said, “Put the mind control on me, then.”
He smiled and looked into my eyes with that particular gaze. I felt the control slip into my brain and my already-intense lust for Xan increased so much that I fell forward. Xan caught me, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed me; I eagerly kissed him back.
While I knew this was wrong by Earth standards, I wanted it too fucking much.
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written for 500themes prompt #331 - "Tragic Sin"
next chapter